How Dark is My Light?
by Jaya
Summary: Jessica is convinced she is followed by Death. This is her story/ramblings.


Title: How Dark is My Light?  
Author: Jaya  
Distribution: ask and I will let you...maybe  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: The concept of the Night World belongs to L.J Smith so does Blaise and Grandmother Harman, Jessica and Aunt Rose belong to me.   
Feedback: is the foundation of my universe. At: jacey111@yahoo.com  
Summary: Jessica is convinced she is followed by Death. This is her story/ramblings.  
Note: Contains the ramblings of a seriously unbalanced witch, anyone uncomfortable with suicide should go away now.  
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HOW DARK IS MY LIGHT?  
  
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I was at my Aunts house for the Summer.   
  
Mummy and Daddy always went on business trips in Summer.  
  
I always hated it.  
  
I would sit in my room wishing Mummy and Daddy would come back soon and take me away from Mean Auntie Rose (or MAR for short.) But they never did.  
  
As I got older, she wished that Mummy and Daddy would come home or die for all I cared.  
  
Or die.  
  
Then the accident happened. The maid ran in at dinner time and fetched MAR. This had never happened before.  
  
Rose ran out with her hand over her mouth, then babbled into the phone, hung up, grabbed her coat and ran out in the pouring rain.  
  
She came back later and grabbed me and hugged me hard, she just kept repeating,  
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, so, so sorry Jessica."  
  
"What's wrong Aunt Rose?" I asked worried, MAR had never cried in front of me before.  
  
"Your parents......died in a car crash, I....I.....Had to go and identify the bodies at the morgue." Her lower lip trembled.  
  
I started to cry. This was all my fault.  
  
All my fault.  
  
I had wished they were dead, and now they were.  
  
My parents are dead and there's nothing to do about it.  
  
They're dead.  
  
And now nothing's ever going to be all right ever again.  
  
*  
  
Auntie Rose has sent me to live with Grandmother Harman. Mama said Grandma Harman, her mother is a witch. Like me.  
  
Auntie Rose thinks I'm mentally unbalanced.  
  
I don't think she's at all right.  
  
Lots of strange people come into Grandmothers shop.   
  
I call them strange because they are not all witches. Some are shape-shifters or Vampires like Auntie Rose.  
  
They all look at me strangely, I think they know I killed my parents.  
  
I feel all scrunched up when they look at me.   
  
It hurts, Oh Goddess it hurts!  
  
I wish, I wish I'd never made that wish.  
  
Because now my life has changed.  
  
* *  
  
NO! Goddess, Grandmother's DEAD!  
  
What is it about me that makes people die all the time.  
  
Grandma would never have died if I hadn't brought the stench of death with me.  
  
Goddess, help me I kill people with my presence, with my very PRESENCE!  
  
Maybe I should go away.  
  
Blaise is running the shop now. She said she needed me here.  
  
But what if I kill her too?  
  
What if I kill more people.  
  
If...If I killed myself people wouldn't be dying like they are.  
  
It's me! All me!  
  
Why did it have to Grandmother Harman?   
  
We NEED her, the Millennium will soon be here, and Circle Daybreak isn't ready.  
  
So not ready.  
  
I will leave, then Blaise and everyone else will be safe.  
  
So safe.  
  
Auntie Rose has been writing to me again.  
  
She can't see the deaths on my hands.  
  
Oh, she thinks I'm mentally disturbed.  
  
Insane!  
  
Me? Insane?  
  
Of course not.  
  
* * *  
  
I'll make everything better.  
  
Soon I will leave this plain and go to Hell.  
  
That's where all the bad, bad people go right?  
  
All the murderers like me?  
  
I'll slit my wrists or hang myself.  
  
Wait, a boy my age, about seventeen is running towards me.  
  
He speaks but I can't hear.  
  
I hear but can't understand.  
  
He runs and my body locks in a defensive stance.  
  
Get out of the way I want to yell.  
  
But my witchfire has erratically started and nothing will stop it.  
  
Then I'm falling, falling.  
  
Falling.  
  
Will nothing break my fall?  
  
I hit the ground.  
  
I can see the boy staring at me in shock.  
  
Talking but still I cannot hear, much less comprehend.  
  
And as I die I lie still and wonder,  
  
How dark was my light?  
  
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Comment? Feedback? Praise? Review? Please.  
Jaya   



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